I was reading Detective Goren's blog on Blogger and he wrote a post about meeting up with Nicole for an hour. She then wrote him an e-mail (which he posted) with the subject line of "Fly Me to the Moon." I love that song and decided to try my hand at Nicole's feelings on the subject. I've only seen Nicole in this year's season premier so don't expect all the little details to be perfect.
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What is it about him that makes me grieve for the unfortunate turn of my life so? Is it that I can see myself with him, happy and pure as opposed to what I am today? I am disgusting, repulsive, evil. But none of that mattered until I met him. Though I have always regretted the loss of my child, the one little bit of decency that has come from me, it is just that. How can anything I have influence over be innocent and pure?
I had a good life, one without woe or sorrow. But I was the one who turned it. I did so many wrong things, all of which have left stains of blood, hate and fear on my reputation. These acts, which have come to define me in the eyes of the few people I still run into, cannot be undone; they are permanently etched in my being and soul.
Even now, when I know the true extent of who I am, there is no way to change. Last time I was in New York, I tried, I really did, to do something right, something I could be proud of. He was right though; I am the same and always will be. Poor, poor Gwen. I really love her. She is the only person to have ever loved me in return. It is such a nice feeling, one that can never be reciprocated with the man I have similar feelings toward.
I have all but spoken the three tiny words to him that we both know fly though the air when we meet. Unfortunately, I believe my love is overpowered by the hatred and awkwardness of our scattered rendezvous. I shouldn't think of him this way, I should move on, banish him to another spectrum of the world. We are so different, so opposed in ideals and life styles and yet there is this pull, something that keeps us together. It may just be that I am the one who feels this pull, but it is there and without intention from either party to break it.
The two worlds we operate in are as different as night and day. He works from New York; I travel everywhere originating from Australia. He spends his days defending the law and pursuing all that is cruel. I am the cruel that he triumphs to obliterate. He has a life, a few people to come back to, his mother, his partner, his captain, himself. I have no one excepting Gwen who cannot be with me. I killed off the only two beings who could have been with me—my child and myself. I am a wretch.
Fly me to the moon,
Let me play among the stars,
Let me see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars.
In other words, hold my hand,
In other words, Baby, kiss me.
Fill my heart with song,
And let me sing forever more.
You are all I long for,
All I worship and adore.
In other words, please be true,
In other words, I love you.
Fill my heart with song,
Let me sing forever more.
You are all I long for,
All I worship and adore.
In other words, please be true!
In other words,
In other words,
I love you!
I am sitting in a bay window over looking a bright rose garden on a warm day, writing this, exposing my feelings. Outside, everything seems pleasant, no care in the world, but inside is a different matter. This song, my favorite and the one that best illustrates how I feel, plays on repeat as I silently let tears fall down my cheeks. Wet spots cover and blur the words as if they represented my heart. There is no hope for it, but still I squirm around the hope, the fleeting image of us, just for an hour, an hour that I would stretch into an afternoon and then a night, together talking or sitting, the silence linking two lives which merge only by force. Nothing more could happen between the two of us. But even just in my soul, I would sing in quiet joy just knowing that the reason for me, the reason for my self-motivation, is near.
Sometimes I feel like there is only one more malicious deed for me to commit, one that could only affect me, for I have killed in both mind and body. Of the deaths that weigh on my shoulders, only one has been a death of spirit leaving the body to continue the façade that life will continue on. It is this one body that must be stopped before my remaining spirit destroys more of this beautiful world in which we live.
Fin